Raven's Watch [m] α

faust remained still, though the tension in his body screamed with a barely contained ferocity. his lone green eye bore into the filthy man, his sharp features shadowed in grim defiance. but within that defiance, there was something softer, a flame not meant to be shared, not meant to be challenged. it was for her. for ayovi.

hún er mín, he growled again, his voice low and guttural, as though the weight of the gods themselves pressed upon his words. she is mine. his breath billowed in the frozen air, chest heaving not from exertion but from the storm roiling within. he stepped forward, deliberate and slow, the ground seeming to shift under the weight of his presence.

ég vil ekki úthella blóði fyrir augum goðanna, he continued, his tone dark but steady. yet the edge of his voice hinted at what lay beneath—violence coiled tight, ready to spring if provoked. his last warning.

his sharp green gaze flicked briefly to ayovi, and in that moment, the plea was clear. it was not a plea for mercy, not for himself, but for her. let this end. let her be safe.

farðu, he commanded finally, his voice unwavering. go.

for the first time, the storm in his eye softened as it landed on her. what had once been quiet affection now bloomed, undeniable in the heat of his gaze. she was not a thing to be claimed, not a trophy for men to fight over. she was more. and the thought of her, trembling and desperate, being forced into the clutches of a lesser man filled him with disgust.

he stood taller, his frame casting a broad shadow over the snow. no one—not this wretched exile, not anyone—would take her from him.

this fucking simp i stg..